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Pets by Ray Printer Friendly


I was hoping to get another Portly Boy posted tonight, but I didn’t count on my bizarre attention span. Oops.

I was doing just fine, but then I started thinking about monkeys. Don’t get me wrong—I’m all FOR thinking about monkeys. I think that most of the world’s problems could be solved if we just thought about monkeys more in our day-to-day lives. But people like me shouldn’t do it when they’re trying to get something accomplished.

The thing is, I started wondering why we have things like cats and dogs for pets, but we don’t have monkeys. Sure, some people have pet monkeys, but only the truly elite.

Think about it, man: cats? Cats are the worst pets on Earth. They don’t care, they don’t even pretend to care. Why not just find an abusive friend that makes you take him out to lunch all the time and throw his poop away? Cats are mean little bastards with attitudes. If you’re having a bad day, that’s when a cat will take a dump in your shoe. And this is what humanity has chosen to keep as a pet?

Or dogs. You have a dog for ten years, then one day it bites your kid in the face. What’s that?

Dogs are weird because they’re supposed to be loyal or spoiled or whatever, but they’re really just another shithead part of the human race. I used to work with this guy, he bought his girlfriend a dog. This co-worker of mine lived about a hundred miles away from his girlfriend, so he only went to see her on the weekends. He bought her the dog so that she would have some companionship during the week. That’s what he told me, anyways.

Probably he just didn’t want her cheating on him. Because that’s a true litmus test, isn’t it? “The dog’s dead of starvation. What have you been doing?” “Um…I was here. I just…uh, thought he was on a diet.”

Anyways, at first the dog loved him. Every time he showed up, the dog would go apeshit, jump all over him, lick him, whatever. But then the dog realized that when the boyfriend was around, the girlfriend was busy. And started shitting in my co-worker’s shoes. And once, while my co-worker was having sex with the girlfriend, the dog jumped up on the bed and puked. All over everything, man. Just for the record, by saying “everything,” I’ve saved myself from having to come up with some witty synonym for penis, vagina, and ruined mood.

I can’t imagine what that would be like—and I can imagine some pretty twisted shit going on during intercourse. A dog puking all over you, though, that’s even beyond my warped imagination.

Cats, dogs, fish. All stupid. Why not get monkeys?

Teach ‘em how to smoke, how to use machine guns, how to make coffee and a really rockin’ breakfast taco. They’d take over the world, sure, but that’s not our problem. I mean, it’s gonna to take a couple generations of evolution for them to reach that point, at least. We can let our great grandchildren worry about how to win back the planet from a bunch of damn dirty apes, right? And in the meantime, we’ll have this world full of trained assault monkeys that make us breakfast. Beats the shit out of having some stupid animal that drools all over your face, poops on the carpet, and humps your leg.


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